Slick Black Impala
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Yep Sam was sure there was something in Freud's analysis relating to desire or fetishes involving vehicles. Basically Sam's view on the timeless Impala that Dean takes care of.


**Title:** Slick Black Impala

**Disclaimer:** Don't own SPN

**Notes:** Teen!Wincest.

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Yep Sam was sure there was something in Freud's analysis relating to desire or fetishes involving vehicles. There had to be because his big brother was a perfect case study. Dean, like many men of his age, liked cars. Sam did too; it's like an in built male thing. But when it's at the point where Sam sees the lust in his brother's eyes when Dean runs his hands over the Impala's black, shiny coating; Sam thinks his world had just gone a little nuts.

And for the Winchesters, that meant something. It was the little things that Dean did for the Impala. He wasn't talking about, coating the body, or washing it, or mending it, that was basic MOT and tender loving care. It was the names, oh the names Dean used for the hunk of metal.

Since when was machinery female? Since misogyny and sexism existed. Cars, boats even hurricanes for crying out loud.

Dean corrected him time, and time again that the Impala was a _she _and not an _it. _Sam snarked that Dean had had a lot more threesomes than he thought if he counted how any times he'd had sex in the car. Which of course made Dean's eyebrows knot, and his head tilt and then a smirk worked its way onto those bow lips. Sam rolled his eyes.

Because, really? Yeah, the Impala was a good car, and she (see what Dean's done to him?) took them everywhere and made them safe. That much Sam would say. But it was STILL. A. CAR.

'Baby'. His brother, a ladies man and a nymphomaniac, called his car 'baby'. That's all kinds of weird, and annoying. Baby is too affectionate, and… and…

When did Dean stop calling Sam that?

We're talking a while back, because Dad had told Dean off doing it, saying that Sam was old enough to be called that. This was coming from the man who coined the nickname Sammy for him. Jesus. Sammy is a little chubby twelve-year-old, Sam was a nearly fully developed fifteen-year-old. Anyway, the term of endearment 'baby' for Sam, which was always at the more intimate times. When no one else was around: Sam had a nightmare or something. Sam could hear in his head that word being whispered into his hair as Dean hugged him tight.

Now the Impala got it, it was all 'I'll never give you away, baby' and it pissed Sam off. He had mentioned to Dean that any girl of his is going to be angry as hell if she's there when he's 'loving it up' with the Impala. Girls don't really see eye to eye with this kind of thing. Ever.

But Dean just waved Sam off and grimaced, and Sam blew breath past his lips when Dean's hand stroked the wheel.

It was a present from Dad, a seal of trust and maturity that Sam had seen his brother show. For all his joking around, Dean was serious and had plenty of complexes that should be in the mind of someone twice his age. There wasn't anything Sam could do about it though, the Impala was part of Dean's life. Just like he was.

_Was _being the operative word. Sam stood beside the hunking metal, glossy black, fine machinery and glared at it. What he was thinking sounded ridiculous, and impossible, but he felt, right at that minute, that Dean loved the Impala more than Sam.

Sam laughed to himself when the thought passed over his conscience. A short, humourless laugh, but _oh _if he didn't believe it for a second. Oh wow, he'd just admitted mentally that he was jealous of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. In no way was that strange.

At school, all Dean had to do was lean against the car with his hands in black leather jacket and flash a smile in Sam's direction when he spotted him, to pick him up. All the girl's Sam knew from various classes, and some older, got an eye of the next generation bad boy.

James Dean was the original heartthrob, but his big brother was right up there next to him. The leather jacket and the Impala just helped him along the way. They were assets to Dean's bad boy image. He wasn't the 'shy, cute one like Sam' a girl had said once, but a 'dangerous, daddy-wouldn't-let-you-anywhere-near-me-you're-a-bad-influence' type. Sam had just blinked at her and nodded.

The girls, like most, knew absolutely nothing about the elder Winchester boy. Dean had vulnerability, but only Sam's seen it. Glimpses, when Dean left the shutters in his eyes open too long. The hardened exterior went back up before Sam could say anything. That happened again and again.

Bobby had said to Dean 'You realise, kid, that it's the car the chicks dig. Not you' to which Dean raised an eyebrow. Dean then ranted about it for days after to Sam. The guy actually questioned it himself and looked worried. Pity Dean didn't see the wink Bobby gave Sam.

Sam tapped the tyre with his foot, and the _thud thud _was solid. Sam shook his head at the car when voices sounded followed by tuneful guitar. He knew that song.

_Ooooo, Just a big black set of wheels_

_Is what it takes to get me off_

_I'm gonna drive all night_

_Spin my wheels all night_

_It feels all right_

_It feels all right_

That was Quiet Riot's Slick Black Cadillac, and Sam frowned, turning to the music which was drifting out from the kitchen area. Dean was listening to a radio station of choice. The words _Is what it takes to get me off _he thought were quite fitting.

'Sammy, get your ass back inside!' and Sam turned once again, to see Dean standing on the steps of the house. 'What you doin'?' Dean's eyes trained from the Impala to Sam, looking confused, and almost suspicious. Oh that's great, he worried more about that goddamn car now.

Sam hopped up the steps, shrugging, and he wished he saw the tea towel in Dean's hand quicker than he did, as it thwacked him on the side of the head. Sam ducked away, catching the towel and glowering at Dean.

'Ooh look at that. Fierce Sammy is coming out to play? You going to hurt me?' Sam just watched the pout, Dean's teasing was getting more frequent.

'No' he stated easily.

'No? Oh what a shame' Dean's pout emphasized, then morphed into a smirk. 'Baby, don't be like that' and Dean darted in the doorway, Sam huffed out a laugh and chased after him. Just liked he should.


End file.
